


The Other One Whom Joyce Loved

by filmFreak1



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angel Season Two, Buffy Season Five, Eventual Romance, F/F, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Post-Episode: s05e17 Forever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26465761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filmFreak1/pseuds/filmFreak1
Summary: After Joyce's death, Lilah Morgan visits her grave and recalls the tragic relationship they had over the years, beginning in college.
Relationships: Lilah Morgan/Joyce Summers
Kudos: 2





	The Other One Whom Joyce Loved

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a new story, as I wrote it nearly a decade and a half ago. I recently went through my personal archives and thought it was wasn't too terrible. Now posted for the first time on AO3!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A woman visits an old friend; in the past, the seeds of a new relationship are sown.

_April 2001_

_Sunnydale, California_

She was wearing a navy blue business suit, with a jacket and a skirt that came up just above the knee. Underneath the jacket she wore a white blouse. She wasn't entirely sure if the outfit was the most appropriate one for the purpose of her trip, but she did try to look her best. In one hand, she carried a bouquet of roses; in the other, a small bottle of wine.

She entered the cemetery and cut through the rows of gray and white headstones. She knew the approximate location of the one she was looking for, but it still took ten minutes of searching before she finally found it.

She had wanted to attend the funeral, but had decided against it, because she knew that the ceremony might also be attended by certain individuals who would not want her there and would have the entirely wrong idea of why she was there. They would be asking her too many questions, even in a best-case scenario. Thus, she had decided to come a few days later instead, and it was why she stood before the gravesite now.

The headstone was a light gray; rather simple but pleasant, and more than sufficient for its task. The inscription read as follows:

**JOYCE SUMMERS**

**1958-2001**

**BELOVED MOTHER**

She laid the roses on the ground directly in front of the headstone. She looked around the cemetery, making sure no one was nearby. Then she sat down on the ground next to the plot; she would likely get grass stains and dirt on her skirt, but she did not care. Setting the bottle of wine next to her, she hugged her knees to her chest and stared at the inscription for several minutes. Finally, she started speaking.

"Hello, Joyce. It's been a while. I've missed you, you know that? How have you been?" She paused, as if expecting the headstone to reply.

When no reply came, she continued. "I've been doing alright, I suppose. Work has been very…stressful, lately, but you know that I could always find a little time for you.

"I know that I'm an evil person, and I partly blame you for that, but that will never change the fact that I loved you…that I still love you. I just hope that you're happy wherever you are. I wish I could tell you that I'll be joining you there one day, but that'd be a fucking lie.

"I would have given it all up for you; you know that, right? Hell, I would have married you...if it were legal here in the states." She smiled. "I guess we could have gone to the Netherlands – it's legal there now, from what I hear. I would have even added your last name to mine, if you'd asked."

Adjusting her legs so that she now sat cross-legged, she smoothed her skirt and continued. "Mrs. Lilah Morgan-Summers. I love the sound of that."

Taking out a handkerchief from her breast pocket, she dabbed at one eye. "Do you remember how we first met?"

* * *

_Fall 1979_

_Los Angeles, California_

Joyce had just moved back into the dorm, putting sheets on her bed and clothes in her closet. She had brought various art-related items from home, namely a few paintings and several textbooks relating to subjects such as sculpture, drawing techniques, and art history. The paintings hung on the wall next to her bed, while the textbooks sat on the bookshelf on the wall above her desk. She was wearing an oversized gray sweater and faded blue jeans, and her dirty blonde hair was styled in a long-layered, feathered manner similar to that of Farrah Fawcett.

The room itself was certainly not the Hilton, but it was decent enough for a room in a girl's dormitory at UCLA, not to mention cheaper than many of them; it was cramped, but no more so than most rooms on campus. She had stayed in this dorm before, and while many of her classmates had moved on either to nicer dorms or off-campus housing—including her last roommate—she had not seen much reason to do so herself.

The person occupying the side of the room next to the windows had evidently already moved in. From what Joyce could tell, her new roommate was a very organized person—this was a relief to Joyce, who had dealt with more than her fair share of messy roommates. The bed was freshly and neatly made, and the bookshelf was completely occupied by textbooks sorted first by subject, then alphabetical order by author. They covered a multitude of areas, including law, politics, psychology, and history. Whatever her roommate's area of study was, she seemed devoted to it, judging by the size of the collection.

Joyce's thoughts were interrupted when she heard the door open behind her, and she turned to see a young brunette woman enter the room; she appeared to be around twenty years old. She was about Joyce's height, and her hair was shoulder-length, with bangs covering her forehead. She wore a black mini-skirt—revealing long, flawless, athletic legs that must have drawn many a man's attention—and a sleeveless black top. She looked at Joyce in surprise, and then smiled; Joyce would have been lying to herself if she had not found the brunette's beauty to be breathtaking.

Approaching Joyce, the brunette held out her hand. "Hey, I'm Lilah Morgan. You must be my new roommate."

Joyce shook her hand, and nodded. "Joyce Young. Nice to meet you, Lilah."

"Joyce." The brunette's eyes sparkled. "That's a very pretty name. I'd say it suits you quite well."

From what Joyce could tell, the brunette was genuine in her compliment, and not attempting to merely flatter her. The blonde giggled a little. "Thank you! I love your name as well."

The brunette looked at Joyce's side of the room. "Did you paint those?"

Joyce pointed to the two paintings closest to the head of her bed. "Those two."

"Wow, you're really talented. Are you an art major?"

"Art history, actually. I'm in my senior year, now. And you?"

"I'm a sophomore. Officially, I'm double majoring in political science and criminal justice, but I consider myself to be a pre-law major."

"So you plan to be going to law school afterward?"

Lilah nodded. "As soon as I get my bachelor's here, so hopefully I'll be attending three years from now. I'm thinking criminal defense as my specialty."

Neither of them would have guessed at this point how much this meeting would affect both of them for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of trivia: Kristine Sutherland's original last name was Young, so as a tribute, I used this as Joyce's maiden name.  
> Forgive me if I do an awful job of depicting late seventies/eighties fashion; I tried to research it to an extent, but I cannot guarantee its accuracy.  
> Hope you like the concept so far! The story is already written, so I'll need to do some editing but otherwise it shouldn't take too long to get the rest up on the site.  
> I have tried to write this story such that it *could* be considered canon-compliant. The biggest issue would be the age difference between the two main characters. I have made it to where Lilah is a couple years younger than Joyce in the story. It could be argued either that Lilah has maintained herself very well, or that her benefits package at W&H includes slowed aging.


End file.
